


Dream logic

by Sh_Wat



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21538261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sh_Wat/pseuds/Sh_Wat
Summary: It’s been almost ridiculously long day, and Oswald’s invitation was sudden and vague – and yet he arrived, even though he would never in a million years guessed what Oswald would ask of him.- It would be an interesting tool to have, don’t you think? Maybe it could be used in investigations, - Oswald tried, still not looking Jim in the eyes. He seemed jittery.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	Dream logic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [genmitsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/gifts).



> [genmitsu](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu), i'm forever grateful for all beautiful gobblepot you created! It's a little thing for a show of gratitude, but i think it wouldn't existed without your fics. 
> 
> Warning: a lot of talking. A little surrealism. Probably there will be pathos. Timeline - somewhere around season 4 finale  
> Sorry for mistakes, english is not my first language.

\- Have I heard you correctly? – Jim asked, slightly rising his brows. Situation clearly called for some morbid amusement at least. – You want to try out something that can be described as ‘mind-blending medicine’… with me? 

Oswald nodded, his eyes sat firmly at little glass bottle (only two elliptic dark pills) on dark wood of the table. They were alone in office, stoic goons stood outside the door. Jim was tense too, it’s been almost ridiculously long day, and Oswald’s invitation was sudden and vague – and yet he arrived, even though he would never in a million years guessed what Oswald would ask of him.

\- It would be an interesting tool to have, don’t you think? Maybe it could be used in investigations, - Oswald tried, still not looking Jim in the eyes. He seemed jittery.

\- It would be illegal. – Jim sighed. It stung a little, that shadow of a deprecating smile on Oswald’s lips, but there were more bothering things in the whole affair. - Are you sure Valeska has nothing to do with it?

\- I have no evidence he does. And initial experiments didn’t show something like plans of city destruction or blood thirst. – Oswald raised a hand at Jim’s darkened expression. - People just fall asleep. And then after half an hour they wake up. And it seems like they just have a same dream. They both are in the same places, communicate, remember every detail similarly.

\- I don’t see how it can be used in investigations, - Jim wanted to stand. He found it distressingly harder to breath calmly, Oswald’s pale face, fingers clutching his cane – all betrayed nervousness bordering on fear. Jim knew why he would feel so uneasy about letting people in his mind, he bloody well knew, and he himself would rather be shot than took something that can alter your inner world. Why would Oswald even suggest it? Isn’t it simply too dangerous, too personal?

\- Dream logic, - Oswald answered, very businesslike, through his eyes became colder the second Jim tried to stand. – You can do anything in a dream. And there will be no traces, no evidences. Not even a physical damage.

\- Not really interested, - Jim tried to breath slower. His mind was racing already, part silent, black and deep guilt, part anger.

\- Did I mention you’re the only one who knows I want to search potential of this thing personally? – Oswald asked, louder than before. – No one I know of has this formula yet. So I can look further for a partner in an experiment. And even I don’t know what people would do after they know the possibilities. How they can modify it.

So go for it, research, modify, Jim wanted to answer. Another potential catastrophe hanging on him, what’s one more in his list? 

One would be too many, he recognized it the second he said:

\- Okay then. Since you said no physical damage.

**

The air was warm. Jim stood in the middle of the street he didn’t recognize. More baffling than anything was a light in this place – soft dusty orange, like on an old photograph. 

Roofs and walls of buildings looked like Gotham, but felt differently. It was too quiet, too empty. Too warm. Jim looked at the sky, half-expecting to see blue, but sky was of this same light copper shade. And there was no sun, through it clearly was daytime.

\- Over there! – familiar voice resounded from the right, and Jim saw Oswald sitting on the steps of the house with ornamented railing.

He, too, looked different – a little softer. He smiled, watching Jim approaching him. He was without his jacked – and it was strange already – but more strange was that his costume was white and brown rather than black, like it clearly was before. 

\- I should have known you’d turn us into citizens of Pleasantville, - Oswald still smiled, relaxed amused smile. Jim wasn’t sure he saw this smile on him before, but it suited him. Made his sharp features so mesmerizingly peaceful.

It turned out Jim wasn’t wearing a jacket either. He sat on the steps beside Oswald and frowned:

\- Why do we know we’re dreaming?

\- Probably were thinking too hard about this before we fell asleep, - Oswald’s words sounded easy. He squinted, looking at the sky, and the second after rain was filling the street with rustling. Wet breeze reached them.

Jim looked up and laughed.

\- You forgot to add clouds, look!

Oswald joined him, and the moment of shared laughter was the most pleasant thing Jim had in days, maybe even in weeks.

Oswald stood first.

\- Let’s go explore, - he offered, waving his hand in the direction of the door winch opened instantly.

\- It rather a good news you don’t have those powers in real life, - Jim huffed, going after him inside of a house. Colors was subdued and creamy here too, and he didn’t want to change that. 

Small hallway, narrow stairs leading on the second floor. And the black cellar door.

They stopped in their tracks. The door seemed more solid than anything that surrounded them. And Jim wished with all his heart that it stay closed.

\- You know, I expected this to be a little different, - Oswald said. He was looking at the door, frowning. – More twists and turns and… danger.

\- I guess it’s a choice, - Jim shrugged. He barely remembered visions he was subjected to with Tetch and Scarecrow, but the things that stayed he didn’t want to see again. Chuckling Barbara as his spiritual guide, spider web and his phantom family dinner, Bruce shooting him and Oswald saving him from the blast on the battlefield GCPD turned into. His father in the day of the car crash. Lee in the blood bathtub. All the pieces of puzzle that he was made of, ragged and torn and tainted. This quiet street and house were a more neutral ground, and Jim would prefer it to stay like that. Maybe Oswald would too, after all pain and revenge his life was full of. After things Strange could do to him. After Scarecrow toxin was enough to make him seek solace in Jim’s touch. 

Oswald startled him, clapping his hands.

\- Alight, - he said, smiling that felt a little forced. – I offer you to test the second floor.

\- What do you have in mind? – Jim barely hid his relief.

\- A simple game, - Oswald turned to him fully, and his face became lighter, more mischievous. – I will hide in one of the rooms, and you have to find me.

Jim suspected it’s going to be an attempt to warp this world’s material. He turned around, trying to let new lightheaded feeling surpass the uneasiness from the black door behind his back and said.

\- All right, I’m counting to ten.

He heard a little mirthful laughter and that distinct halt of Oswald’s steps when he started to count aloud.

After ten he turned around and held his breath, listening. But the house was silent. Not a single crack of wood, and yet it didn’t feel eerie, just calm. 

\- Oswald? – Jim called, reaching the second floor. There was a long corridor of light wood, big windows, many doors. Too many for a house they entered. Oswald didn’t waste his time.

\- Oswald, come on. Give me a hint. Use your chance to tease.

Silence. Jim hummed and entered the first room. It was darker than all the places he saw here before. Smooth green fabric covered the walls, a cold sheen like silk. Under the window was a small crimson sofa covered with a tiger's skin. A closed stained-glass window let in a little green-tinted light, making the whole room look like the interior of a sunken ship's cabin. Jim went to the right and found a small black door behind the curtain beside a vase of white lilies. For some reason he wanted to knock, to warn of his arrival.

The next room was just as richly decorated with fabrics, but the colors were deeper and warmer. Gold embroidered bunches of grapes on a dark field on the walls, crimson poufs and pillows on the floor, a golden curtain with cornflowers. Jim hadn't had time to look around when he heard a muffled sob.

Turning, he identified the sound as coming from a black-and-red cabinet 

\- Oswald? - he asked, worried. The sound stopped. Jim did not think that he would make a gun appear anywhere near at hand, and he opened the cabinet doors with both hands.

Oswald was bound hand and foot and gagged. He stared at Jim for a moment, horrified, confused, then turned away.

\- Oswald, how did this happen? - Jim began to untie his bonds, tearing them with an effort of will.

\- Is that your doing? - Oswald demanded, pulling the gag from his mouth. - You made it so I couldn’t move?

Jim dropped his hands. Oswald turned away again, wiping his face.

\- No, you wouldn't have had the foresight. Probably a subconscious joke. I was too busy building rooms full of beautiful junk for you to inspect, and I didn't notice that I was caught by some fragment of a nightmare.

Oswald struggled angrily to his feet, one hand clinging to the frame of the closet, the other pushing Jim's hand away as he held it out for support.

\- You were right, not wanting to try it, - said Oswald bitterly, as he passed on into the room, still not facing Jim. - The effect of this drug is not worth the risk. I suggest we sit here until this is over.

\- Time is different in dreams, - Jim said, sitting down on the pillows. - We can't know when it will be over.

Oswald sat down beside him, surprisingly easy for his leg, and buried his face in his hands.

\- I'm sorry, - he said quietly. - It just went so smoothly. I didn't expect this place to stop bending to my will.

\- And there was no one else here? - Jim recalled his unnaturally conjured visions. There were always other people in them who could change the course.

\- No, - Oswald shrugged. - It's just us. I don't remember any of the other subjects having that experience. 

\- I guess we didn't want anyone else here, - it was more of a thought Jim said out loud. Was it a sign of wanting to show each other a new side - or a sign that they didn't trust each other and didn't want to reveal themselves?

\- Do you think desire to trust and desire to keep at a distance can coexist at the same time? – Oswald, apparently, thought roughly about the same.

Oswald was nervous. There was the feeling that he would have been glad to get as far away from Jim as possible if he had not been so afraid of the surprises that a deceptively peaceful and pliable dream might reveal. Jim would have felt the same way if he'd been in the same situation.

\- Oswald, don't forget, - he decided to say, almost physically aware of Oswald's suspicious gaze. It was getting darker - his condition could clearly have caused the scenario to deteriorate for the worse. - It's just a dream. It didn't really happen.

\- Yes, but we are real, - he said forcibly. - We will remember.

Jim reached out to take his hand. He would not have done so in reality, but here it depended on Oswald's calmness whether they had to fight off the ghosts of past crimes, or whether they could wait quietly.

\- I'm not using it against you, you know, - he said. Oswald's hand was unyielding, motionless, his eyes unbelieving. - Otherwise you'll tell everyone about my love of retro sitcom aesthetics.

Oswald nodded, laughing, but did not take his hand away.

\- You know that joke wouldn't be funny if you weren't so charming, - he hesitated, huffed. - I think that should stay in the dream, too.

The very air around them seemed to thicken. But they really were in a dream now, and when you realize your dream, you always want to do something that you would not dare to do in the daytime.

\- Jim, - Oswald breathed out, paralyzed by amazement. – Jim, what are you doing?

Jim drew him closer, falling back against the pillows. At the same time he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his impulse and slap himself. Where would his desire to distract Oswald end, this desire to acknowledge that his compliment was welcome, and something would begin after which he would avoid this man like plague? 

Oswald clung to him with both hands, half shocked, half embarrassed. The blush so suited his delicate pallor.

\- You know, as it happens, the dream ends on the most interesting part? - Jim smiled, hoping his smile looked adventurous rather than madly reckless. 

\- And what will be the most interesting? - he felt the question more like a breath on his lips.

\- We'll see, - said Jim, and Oswald kissed him first. He kissed greedily, wetly, shamelessly. The realization of the freedom of dream returned to his mind.

Jim could feel Oswald's fingers tearing and scratching at the shirt buttons on his chest -feverishly, awkwardly, as if he feared that Jim was about to change his mind-or that he would want to stop himself. Jim caught his hands, and Oswald drew back at once.

\- No? - he asked, still hovering a little over Jim, his breath coming in short, a hot flush on his cheeks. He looked almost bewildered.

\- Not so fast, - Jim suggested, releasing his hands and unbuttoning the shirt himself. Oswald watched as if fascinated by his movements, and when Jim, almost intoxicated by his rapt attention, reached for the zipper of his pants, Oswald caught his hand.

\- Not so fast, - he said in response to a questioning look, and they laughed into a kiss.

Oswald moved more slowly now. Kissed his neck, his chin, his face, up to his temple. Fingers gently touched the nipples, lightly squeezing, stroking.

\- I have an idea, but you must help me with it, - Oswald whispered in his ear. Jim was almost lost in the incessant caressing touch, teasing and cautious at the same time

\- W-what idea?

Oswald almost lay down on him, and Jim felt the line of his hard cock through his pants, unconsciously leaning closer too to let him feel his own arousal. Oswald's left hand, which was going up his neck to his hair, slightly clenched.

\- I thought I could make you feel everything.. more strongly. Will you let me? Would you like that?

Jim doubted he would have needed more stimulation, but a shiver of anticipation had already passed through his body. In a dream, such things are almost safe. At least they seem to be.

\- Say yes, - whispered Oswald, holding him closer. - I so want to try.  


\- Go for it then,- Jim said, throwing his head back. He had no idea what to do, he had not yet consciously tried to change the conditions of this world, but the desire to feel more in this situation was so easy to formulate. 

Heat and trembling filled his body, rose to his skin and scattered sparks where Oswald touched him. The sensation was so intense that he arched and groaned as he inhaled, meeting every light touch. And Oswald showered him with them so freely. 

\- So you imagined it before? - Jim heard through the dizziness of excitement. He was so close, so damn close to real, simmering pleasure. - I did and quite often. How I've always wanted you, Jim. 

Oswald was hardly aware that he was still talking, but Jim wanted to free him from that, from the need to express his feelings, he just wanted to feel with him, and so he began to tear and pull off Oswald’s clothes, half getting rid of them by thought, judging by how quickly only bare skin touched his skin. And now Oswald himself tore off Jim’s pants and underwear and ran his hand along the length of his penis, quickly and greedily.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd held a man in his arms, but it wasn't his usual reality, and in dreams it was more frequent - and Oswald was a particularly frequent visitor. Where the claws of his guilt could not reach, such rare, purely physical dreams. This one was different even from them-if only in that Oswald was real. 

They stilled for a moment, looking only into each other's eyes. Oswald's hand was still between Jim's legs, and for a wild moment he pictured their bodies sprawled on chairs in a distant, almost impossible reality, and he chuckled.

\- You know, we'd get our clothes dirty, and we both have business today, - he said hoarsely.

Oswald blinked, then suddenly laughed, resting his forehead on Jim's shoulder.

\- You... you really chose your timing carefully... - he bit him lightly on the shoulder, then squeezed his cock a little. - But isn't it too late for such regrets?

Jim leaned forward and ran his tongue over his chest, many small touches, then covered the nipple with his lips. He guessed right, judging by the way Oswald pressed Jim’s head to his chest, exhaling sharply.

They led each other to pleasure faster, less trying to savor. Oswald’s cock felt in his hand so hard and hot and right, and it turned out they both preferred rather rough rhythm. And Jim closed his eyes, closer still to that edge with every Oswald’s breathy little moan, and fell back, and he felt a moment of release with every nerve in his body, happy, all-consuming...

He opened his eyes, still breathing fast, and emerged from the haze of bliss back into Oswald's dark and strangely cold office. The shiver made him jump in his chair.

Oswald sat behind his desk, opposite him, flushed, also breathing heavily, staring at him with his wide, wild, glittering eyes.

\- Did you-did you get to - ? - Jim asked, the sound of his own voice strangely harsh.

Oswald covered his face with his hand and sank down on the arm of his chair. He laughed.

\- You're an impossible man. And this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Yes, I did get to - Jim, are you always so collected?

Jim shook his head. The deafness made it difficult to think, the knowledge that the safe dream screen around them was no longer there chilled his heated skin.

\- It would have been more mortifying not to, wouldn't it?

Oswald nodded, still chuckling, his hand still on his face. Jim walked over to him, trying to feel the connection between them in this piercing, real world, much harder to be in. 

Oswald eagerly responded to the touch, took his hand, pressed his temple to Jim’s temple and spoke:

\- It seemed so real. It was real, every sensation, every second. It was you. And now we're supposed to say a polite goodbye and part ways, and avoid each other for a few months before the next whole city scale disaster. The best and the worst thing about a dream is that it ends.

Oswald's voice was hollow, but he did not pull away. Jim hugged him tighter.

\- Why did you wanted to try this with me?

\- I guess I was hoping that in the dream we could defeat some monster together or something. That it would be a simple exercise. But Jim, I can't defeat this monster. It's a husk to you, but it's a very deep thing to me. - Oswald hugged him closer, then pulled away. - I'll have the formula destroyed. And I'll make sure it's not restored.

Jim shook his head.

\- It'll probably come back in some form.

\- Then at least I'll be careful not to let it get into my system again! - Oswald said sharply, then looked at Jim, who flinched at the tears in his eyes.

\- You don't understand. It's going to crack me sooner or later - what you can do to me. And you see it every time and every time you turn away. So go on and do it now, as usual.

\- I can’t, - Jim started, but Oswald didn’t let him finish.

\- I swear to god, James Gordon, if you are going to joke about incriminating stains on your pants, I’m going to smash you with this cane. This is not a time you would get away by looking dashing, no.

Jim managed to keep nervous giggle to himself. Oswald didn’t, but he was clearly raw and ready to attack – as always, in the means of desperate self-protection.

\- I can’t leave, - he said anyway, and Oswald shook his head, and Jim pushed himself to talk through what he himself wasn’t ever planning on threading before. – I’ve never fully trusted you, I didn’t let myself - but I knew you did. And what we saw and felt today – it turned out we trust each other enough to create a safe bubble for just two of us. To give each other something simply because we can. Not only on a battlefield. I thought that’s the only thing that brings us together. But you’re right – it’s deeper. It’s very deep, right to the core.

He exhaled and looked at Oswald. Now he could only wait for his decision. And if Oswald thought it was time for him to turn and go, it would be fairer. Everyone he loved, Jim dragged into his war against the world and infected them with it. Oswald had been so long in the midst of such familiar ruin, but was it irresponsible to offer him something so precious to him, knowing full well how easily it breaks?

Before Jim could utter any of this - not even the words "I'm sorry, you're right," which as usual he would have tried to express it - Oswald held out his hand. A simple gesture they had made so many times.

\- Come here, you've done it. – he smiled, the most tender smile Jim ever saw. - Come here, Jim, James, James Worthington Gordon, the best worst thing that ever happened to me. We'll order new suits tomorrow.


End file.
